Justice League: Doomsday
by seano
Summary: REVISED out of screenplay format. A year after the events of Man of Steel and two years following The Dark Knight Rises, Metropolis and Gotham City are threatened once again. But this time, it won't be just Superman and Batman who answer the call to action. Nolanverse story.
1. Chapter 1

Krypton - 250,000 Years Ago

Bertron stared out his laboratory window as the Kryptonian sky turned dark maroon, as it always did every evening as night fell. In the distance, to his left, a volcano pitched yellow lava and smoke through the air. To the right, he could see the campfires of the itinerant native Kryptonian humanoids that lived on this fearsome planet. He quietly marveled at how he had been able to survive here for the last 40 years.

His race, from a distant planet called Aswol, was dying. Genetic maladies had multiplied, leaving them with atrophied bodies that didn't reflect their highly advanced technology. With a sound, young body, Bertron had been selected to be among a group of Aswolite scientists sent out to different solar systems in an attempt to collect and incorporate alien genetic materials that could be used to breed new generations of Aswolites.

Bertron had been particularly proud to be selected to work on Krypton. Krypton had long been known as one of the most dangerous planets in this sector of the galaxy. Orbiting a red dwarf star known as Rao, it had incredible biodiversity, which had given him much hope for his mission.

He had landed his spacecraft atop a rocky knoll that overlooked a large plain. It was inaccessible to most of the planet's predators, and made for easy re-supply from the Aswolite cargo ships that would come twice a year to give him needed provisions (although Bertron had quickly developed a taste for the meat of the zuurt, a large herbivore that roamed the plains in sizable herds). A small reactor gave him the power to run his laboratory and keep his meager living quarters in condition. Although Bertron was by nature a solitary soul, he did look forward to the return of the cargo ships, and was pleased when the transmission came through informing him that the next re-stocking run would arrive tomorrow. It was apparent from what the crewmembers on the cargo ships were telling him that Bertron had made the most progress of any of his fellow scientists.

Bertron's first few months on the planet were devoted to collecting specimens. Two forms of life on Krypton's surface quickly came to his attention once he arrived. The native humanoids were much larger and stronger than Bertron and other Aswolites. Meanwhile, he also discovered a fearsome predator known as a torquat. A formidable killer, the torquat ran quickly on its four legs, had large purple claws that it used to kill and dismember its prey, and featured bony protrusions on its back and head that protected it from other creatures.

It took him nearly a year after collecting a sufficient quantity of specimens to produce a fully developed first attempt at a new Aswolite featuring genetic materials from the native humanoids and a torquat and incubate it to a point where he could take it into the Kryptonian wilds to see how it would fare. The young child was, alas, quickly killed by a swarm of stantor bees, whose venom was lethal within seconds.

Pangs of sadness nearly overwhelmed Bertron as he collected the remains of the child off the rocky ground. It was then, though, that Bertron has his idea. Krypton was the perfect place to do more than to just save a dying race. He could build a perfect, indestructible form of life. Mix those physical characteristics with the intelligence of the Aswolites, and they would be poised to make Aswol the center of the universe.

Over the decades that followed, Bertron repeated his experiments over and over and over again. Each time the child was killed, Bertron would seek to genetically engineer around the way his child had been killed the time before. Bertron had also found a way to genetically implant the memories of the previous iterations into the new child. This had sped up the development process significantly, as each child was now aware of the poisonous tentacle flowers and knew about the eels that lurked in the nearby river.

Soon, the sting of a stantor bee had no effect on the child. Later, the skin of a flame beast would have no impact. Then, the child became strong enough to overpower an owlor, and to fight off the spores of the blood morel. The pain Bertron felt at each death – and there had been thousands over the years – evolved into a grim determination to accomplish his goal.

But, to accomplish all of these things, the child had – by necessity - become less and less Aswolite. It still retained the grey skin of Bertron and his race, but the body had grown to be that of a large Kryptonian humanoid – standing some seven feet tall – and had taken on many of the exterior qualities of the torquat. Its head, shoulders, and back were covered in bony spikes, while the fingers were tipped with sharp purple claws. To say that the child ran would not be entirely correct, either. It bounded from place to place, crouching and leaping like a torquat separating a zuurt from the rest of the herd.

This had all come at a cost, though. Bertron was disappointed to see that as the generations advanced, the intellect of the child was seemingly becoming less and less advanced and more primitive. It was a concern, but one that Bertron would address in future iterations. Survival times increased from minutes to hours to days to weeks, and Bertron was careful to monitor his child, taking a small one passenger pod out over the plain at night to find it.

Over five months had passed since he had released his last child onto the Kryptonian plain. He was pleased and challenged by the fact that it was growing increasingly difficult to find the child. That meant it was becoming a savvier hunter. Singlehandedly, it had cleared the plain of almost every native predator and much of the prey. Its speed and strength had grown substantially since release, as evidenced a couple of weeks ago, when Bertron watched as it took down an entire herd of 27 zuurt on its own. _27 zurrt at one time!_ Bertron was most pleased.

Only a few remaining bands of the humanoids remained, and they survived only by remaining on the move almost constantly. His scans had also shown that the child was evolving on its own now, without Bertron's help.

_An amazing development_, Bertron thought to himself as he loaded his equipment into the craft, preparing for tonight's journey. He had to get one last progress report before the cargo ship arrived tomorrow.

A few moments later, Bertron pressed the button that opened the pod door and initiated the craft's engine. As he began to ease the craft out, though, he was surprised to see his child leap in front of his path. Quickly, he cut the engine and the ship glided to a halt just inches from the creature. From behind the windscreen, Bertron was face-to-face with his masterpiece. And he beamed with pride.

Until, that is, the creature's fist exploded through the windscreen and closed around Bertron's neck. Slowly, it dragged Bertron out of the pod, staring him down the whole way.

The realization came to Bertron too late. _Genetic memories_, he thought. My child remembers all the previous deaths. And it remembers who left him to die each time.

"My child!" Bertron pleaded for his life. "I have made you the most powerful creature in the universe!"

The creature eyed his creator and paused. For just a moment, anyway. And with a slight flex of the wrist, Bertron's head was separated from the rest of his body. It fell to the ground with a dusty thump, eyes looking straight back up at what it had wrought.

* * *

As the cargo shuttle touched down with a solid thump near Bertron's lab, Cassik was concerned. There were no signs of life visible. He would have expected Bertron – if it were just a transmitter problem that had caused him not to answer the calls of the orbiting cargo ship for the last three hours – to come out and meet him. More unusual was the fact that the pod door was open. Bertron wasn't known to take that sort of risk on a planet as dangerous as Krypton.

Leaving his navigator Zaxis in the shuttle, he moved quickly across the rocky knoll, and ducked inside the open pod door. No sign of the pod anywhere. No sign of Bertron. He fingered his energy weapon attached to his belt.

Ducking down the hallway, Cassik moved with speed to Bertron's living quarters. Empty. _Must be in the lab_, he thought. _Hopefully_.

Bursting in to the lab, Cassik found it quiet and uninhabited. No signs of Bertron at all. Which is why he was so surprised when he felt the claws enter his back. Looking down, he saw them come out his chest before he lost consciousness.

The creature knew where it was going next. It was time to leave Krypton. Bounding down the hall and through the open pod door, it was attacking the shuttle before Zaxis fully understood what was happening. A blast from his energy weapon slowed the creature down, enabling Zaxis to initiate the launch sequence. As the ship began to lift off, the creature reached up and caught the shuttle's wings and held it down from launching. Exhaust and flames from the rockets were discharging all over the creature to no effect.

Stumbling out of the lab, a severely wounded Cassik saw the scene unfolding on the knoll, and took the only action he could. Pulling out his energy weapon, he focused his last bit of life force and aimed it at the reactor. Squeezing the trigger, he, Zaxis, and the creature were consumed in a gigantic fireball.

* * *

Being an Aswolite cargo ship captain was usually not a particularly exciting job, one filled with routine and schedule, which meant that this was already not a normal day for Captain Felwaq. But after the gigantic explosion on the planet's surface, it was his responsibility to see what happened.

And what he saw shocked him. The only thing left on the rocky knoll was the body of the creature. Everything else had been vaporized.

Felwaq believed he recognized the creature based on reviewing Bertron's previously submitted research reports. Was it dead? Their scans were inconclusive – it was almost as if the creature was undetectable.

But anything that remained intact through such an explosion could not be good, Felwaq thought. So he decided quickly what to do. The crew fashioned metal binders and wrapped the creature's arms and legs with them. They placed the creature inside one of their burial pods and blasted it into space – on a course for a solar system with a yellow sun opposite of the direction where they were headed.


	2. Chapter 2

METROPOLIS – PRESENT DAY

Lex Luthor was angry. Just as he had been every morning since that fateful day nearly a year ago. The attack on Metropolis by General Zod and the subsequent battle between Zod and Kal-El had essentially destroyed Luthor's beloved hometown. The numbers were staggering. 98,131 were killed. 1,034,274 were injured. And the core business district on New Troy island and practically every key building in the city had been flattened.

It was great for business, mind you. LexCorp had quickly secured a no-bid contract to handle the clean-up work in the city. Luthor himself had overseen the operation, letting his capable deputies run LexCorp's other businesses. He was proud that the work was completed in nine months, half the time the city and federal officials had estimated.

But Luthor couldn't believe the way many in the media – particularly _The Daily Planet_ – and the military had chosen to defend the Kryptonian Kal-El. "Superman", they had taken to calling him. _Aliens aren't men_, Luthor was fond of reminding those who uttered that name in his presence. Besides, Luthor pointed out, where was this "Superman"? There had only been two confirmed sightings of him since the confrontation with Zod, and none in the last six months. Where was Metropolis's guardian when its people were suffering from the ravages of crime and unemployment and desperation? What good was it to save Metropolis if you weren't going to be there to pick up the pieces?

And because of that, Luthor needed to feel that pain and that anger every day. The pain and anger that had him literally pulling at his rich mane of thick black hair at night. Even though LexCorp had a fleet of helicopters at its disposal, he sat in the back of his chauffeured sports-utility vehicle and crawled across the one remaining bridge with the thousands of other commuters coming from the suburbs into New Troy every morning. It took him two hours each way, but that was enough to keep the fire burning.

From his office in one of the few standing LexCorp buildings left on New Troy, he overlooked what had been come to be known as the "Blast Zone" – the now barren wasteland surrounding where Zod's World Engine attempting to begin the process of terraforming Earth into a new Krypton. Today would be the start of a new Metropolis. But there was other work to attend to first.

* * *

The conference room was a bit small for this sort of meeting, but Luthor didn't care. All the people he needed were assembled, as he strode into the room and took a seat at the head of the table with a video screen behind him. The Army had sent General Swanwick and Major Ferris, while Wayne Enterprises was represented by CEO Lucius Fox and S.T.A.R. Labs was represented by Chief Science Officer Dr. Silas Stone.

"Glad you all could make it," Luthor began. "I know it's highly unusual to get together the three largest military contractors in one room like this, but I think we'll all find it worthwhile. Let me be frank: we're closing in on a year following the Battle of Metropolis, and I'm disappointed in the lack of progress."

"Lack of progress?" Swanwick cut in. "Everything is running largely ahead of schedule here in Metropolis."

"Thanks to LexCorp, yes. But that's not what I'm referring to. I'm referring to the efforts to develop defenses against the aliens."

"What about Superman?"

"The Kryptonian?" Luthor was incredulous. "Did you learn nothing? You're going to trust the safety of our plant to the benevolence of an alien creature that has the power to destroy us all? We must act! We must be able to save ourselves!"

"What do you propose, Lex?" Fox spoke up, attempting to steer the conversation in a less heated direction.

Luthor paused for a moment. "What I propose is very simple: developing the ability to launch an effective counter-attack against any potential alien invader. We have no assurances that there aren't more General Zods waiting to come to collect the Kryptonian ."

He grabbed a remote control, and moved to stand in front of the display screen.

"We have to have technology that allows us to either match their power or neutralize their power. We should try to do both, and let me explain how.

Luthor clicked the remote control, bringing up pictures of Batman and his vehicles, The Bat and The Tumbler.

"We know it's possible for ordinary human beings to do extraordinary things – to display abilities that they wouldn't otherwise have. Isn't that right, Lucius?"

"What are you getting at, Lex?" Fox was doing a poor job of showing his annoyance that Luthor had been able uncover his company's relationship to Batman.

Luthor clicked the remote again, and Wayne Enterprises blueprints for The Bat and The Tumbler popped up on the screen.

"Gotham's defender – The Batman – uses an armory of equipment and weaponry designed by Wayne Enterprises. Your equipment, Lucius, has defeated Ra's Al-Ghul, The Joker, and Bane. All human, mind you, but formidable nonetheless. And there's more."

Luthor punched at the remote again, and video of a man with two advanced prosthetic legs running on what appeared to be a high school track appeared on the screen. Soon, the runner passed a pack of able-bodied runners, leaving them in the dust.

"Incredible!" Luthor shouted. "But wait, it gets better!"

The runner then turned off the track onto the football field, and with an effortless leap landed on the crossbar of the goalpost.

"That's your technology, Dr. Stone," Luthor continued. "The most advanced prosthetics and implants available – allowing for superhuman performance.

"We don't need a "Superman". We can be Superman!"

"I believe in the sincerity of Superman," Swanwick said as he leaned forward in his chair. "But any good military man is going to want alternatives. Let's say this all works as you say. Being able to match Superman's power is one thing, but all that does is get us to the same spot we were in before. Zod and Superman had the same level of power, and they destroyed this city while trying to destroy each other. If we're going to do this, we need to be able to completely neutralize his power, and kill him if need be."

"A good point. I know how we can do that, too." Luthor said, clicking the remote again. "We know that our yellow sun is the source of the Kryptonian's power. To neutralize the Kryptonian, we must replicate the conditions on his home planet – where there was a red sun.

"We must develop a machine that replicates the radiation field of a red sun – and is able to direct it at a target. We know what that radiation signature is like, but can we weaponize it? If we can do that, we can make the Kryptonian human. And if we make the Kryptonian human, we can kill him."

Dr. Stone shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Well, it's interesting, to be sure," Stone said. "Given the time and the resources, it should be possible."

"It is possible, and we will do it," Luthor said, turning to Swanwick. "This is the Manhattan Project for our generation, General, and we will be successful. Can I count on your support?"

"Let me see the budget, Ferris," Swanwick grumbled. Ferris handed him a spreadsheet.

"What's $10 billion among friends, right, Lex?" he sighed. "But here's the deal – you work collaboratively with Wayne and S.T.A.R. Labs, and the Defense Department controls all the technology produced as part of this effort."

Luthor beamed.

"I can work with that. How about you, Lucius and Silas?"

Fox and Stone nodded their assent.

"Great!" Luthor turned and headed out of the room. "If you'll excuse me, I have a city to rebuild!"

* * *

Minutes later, Luthor's SUV arrived at the dead center of the Blast Zone. A large stage was set up, with balloons and LexCorp banners. A crowd was assembled in front of the stage, including a number of television and radio reporters.

"Luthor's here," Lois Lane said, nudging her _Daily Planet_ colleague Clark Kent with her elbow. Kent had his head buried in his the LexCorp press release announcing the event.

"I know," Kent responded, only now looking up to see Luthor bounce up the stairs onto the stage as the crowd applauded with great enthusiasm.

Moving to the podium at the center of the stage, Luthor waved to the crowd. It was the sort of reception generally reserved for movie stars or the President of the United States.

"Thank you all for being here," Luthor began. "This has been an especially dark year in the history of Metropolis. The devastation we experienced is unprecedented and the loss we all have endured is unimaginable.

"We will never forget those who perished on that day. We will never allow their memories to fade from our hearts. But it is now time to put that darkness behind us. It is now time for us to build a better, brighter Metropolis. It is our responsibility to do this.

"Metropolis is my home. Metropolis is the home of LexCorp. That will never change. And, today, we reaffirm that commitment by announcing the development of Metropolis Center.

"The great institutions of our city will be rebuilt, better than before. At the center will be Metropolis Grand Central Station, the hub for our city's new subway system. Surrounding it will be a new City Hall, a new Metropolis Police Department headquarters, a new Metropolis General Hospital, and yes, a new headquarters for LexCorp.

"This is just the beginning. I hope you will join me and the rest of our city on this journey. Together, we will make Metropolis better than ever before! Thank you!"

And with another wave, Luthor was moving just as quickly back off the stage, where the reporters swarmed him.

"Mr. Luthor, what did you mean when you said 'this is our responsibility'?" Kent asked, barging to the front of the group.

Luthor stopped in his tracks and stared directly at Kent, scowling.

"It is our responsibility because this is our city," Luthor said. "The one you call Superman may have protected us from Zod, but he didn't clear the rubble. He's not giving anyone a job. He's not rebuilding the bridges or the schools or the hospitals. He's not stopping the drugs and the assaults and the burglaries that are plaguing parts of our community. We will do that for ourselves, and I will lead the way."

And with that the beaming smile went back on Luthor's face and he plunged into the adoring crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

GOTHAM CITY - PRESENT DAY

John Blake took one deep breath, crouched his knees slightly, and jumped. He allowed himself to free fall for two seconds, and then whipped his arms out to the side. He felt the fabric of his cape stiffen and wind catch underneath it, stopping his fall, and allowing him to glide silently across the Gotham City skyline. The beauty and majesty of the city as seen from above always took his breath away, and for a few moments anyway, it took his mind off of the probably brutal task that waited for him at the end of this flight.

* * *

It had been almost two years since Blake had received his 'inheritance' from Bruce Wayne, and when he had risen on the platform, surrounded by the screeching bats that live under the southeast corner of Wayne Manor, he was overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. If being handed the GPS coordinates to the Batcave wasn't enough, word that the searchlight on top of the Major Crimes Unit building had been repaired only cemented it – the expectation that Blake take over as Batman was clear.

The pieces all fell into place a few weeks later when Blake met with Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family's faithful butler, summoned him to lunch. Pennyworth now served as the Chairman of the Wayne Foundation, and had himself inherited all of the out buildings on the Wayne Manor property

"John, for decades, I have served the Wayne family with pride and distinction," Pennyworth began. "And, it was Master Wayne's final wishes that you take up his mantle."

"As Batman?" Blake responded. "That's a lot to ask."

"It's more than that, John. Based on your shared background, he knew you would be the right chief executive officer for the Wayne Foundation. The Board of Directors – per Master Wayne's wishes – are going to refocus the Foundation's efforts on eradicating urban poverty and homelessness in Gotham."

"I'm just a beat cop, Mr. Pennyworth. A former beat cop, to be specific."

"Call me Alfred. If I may be so candid, Bruce Wayne was a spoiled trust fund baby until he found purpose for his life – a way to focus his anger. It was my job to raise him and protect him after the death of his parents. Now, it's my job to protect his – and his family's – legacy. You already have that purpose for your life, and you will now have resources at hand to make a real difference."

"It's that easy?"

"Oh no, Mister Blake. It's not easy at all. There will be broken bones, deep bruises, and lots of pain."

"Batman's got a lot of enemies."

"That's just the fundraisers for the Foundations, sir. It's a rough group. We'll talk about being the Batman later."

* * *

Blake tilted his arms slightly, and he began to turn down towards the Narrows. In the wake of Bane's siege, Gotham's criminal hierarchy had been turned on its head. The old guard of gangsters were on the outs – many of them had met the same fate as Gotham's millionaires during the siege - and a new cast of characters had replaced them. The Narrows had been consumed by a vicious drug war between followers of Dr. Jonathan Crane – also known as the Scarecrow – who continued to refine and distribute versions of his fear toxin as a potent hallucinogen and a group of thugs who pledged allegiance to Waylon Jones. Jones was a hulking figure disfigured by a form of epidermolytic hyperkeratosis that gave his skin an olive, scaly appearance. That, and rumors that he engaged in cannibalism, fueled his nickname of "Killer Croc".

Other parts of Gotham had further problems. To help fund the revitalization of the city, the new mayor had authorized a gambling license for the Iceberg Casino, a floating monstrosity on Gotham Bay. The proprietor, Oswald Cobblepot, had ties to Metropolis's notorious weapons dealers, Intergang.

Blake quickly learned that there was more to being Batman than just putting on the suit and capturing criminals. The first night he ventured into Gotham's underworld was a revelation. Interrupting a drug sale, his slight physique had been overpowered easily by the powerful thugs running interference. It was only through the grace of the technology of the Tumbler and his utility belt that Blake had gotten out alive and successful.

For the first few months, then, Blake operated like a detective – not a superhero. He put Lucius Fox's technology to maximum use and minimized physical confrontation. Working with Commissioner James Gordon, he put the Gotham City Police into position to be successful. Meanwhile, Blake spent hours in the gym, remaking his body and learning advanced martial arts techniques. He even spent time in a flight simulator so he could fly the Bat without crashing.

Twenty pounds of muscle later, Blake was ready to be the Batman Gotham was accustomed to.

* * *

Tonight, Blake hoped to put an end to a string of kidnappings that had placed parents in Gotham on edge. Over a five-month stretch, 14 Gotham teenagers had gone missing. The catch was that most of them turned up two to three weeks later physically unharmed but experiencing ghastly hallucinations and exhibiting violent behavior. Weeks of investigation and surveillance had led him to a warehouse tucked on the docks of Gotham Harbor.

Blake tucked his arms in and gracefully landed on the roof of an aging tenement building across the street from the warehouse. The situation was as he expected, but one could never be too cautious. Clicking a button on his cowl, night-vision goggles slid down to cover his eyes.

"We live, Alfred?"

Back at the Batcave, Pennyworth manned a computer terminal with multiple screens. One screen showed the view through Blake's goggles, while others showed pictures of the still-missing children and camera angles of the surrounding streets.

"Transmissions are clear, we're ready," Pennyworth responded.

Blake peered down through the glass skylight into the warehouse. One child could be seen, sitting in the center of the concrete floor, hands cinched behind the back. Four thugs with high powered weapons stood guard.

"OK, let's see who we've got here," Blake said, touching the rim of his goggles to zoom in on the child – a blonde girl.

"Got him," Pennyworth's voice sounded in Blake's ear. "Stephanie Simmons. Missing for three weeks – she never made it home from basketball practice. Her father once worked at Arkham with Jonathan Crane."

"Just as we thought, then. Contact Gordon. It's time for some backup."

"Speaking of backup, sir – check out the south side of the building."

Blake snapped his head sharply to the right. A large black SUV was pulling up to the building. Two more armed thugs exited the front seats of the car, but it was the instantly recognizable passenger from the back row that got his attention. The gangly man in a dark black suit slipped a burlap mask over his face as he walked from the vehicle to the warehouse door.

"The man of the hour."

Watching through the skylight, he saw Crane approach the children while the thugs slipped respirators over their faces. Blake knew what was coming next. A puff of smoke emerged from Crane's mask, enveloping Stephanie, who began to struggle against their restraints while Crane wildly gesticulated and yelled.

"Time for an appointment with the doctor," Blake said, jumping from the roof of the tenement and gliding for a quick couple of seconds before crashing through the skylight and landing gracefully on the warehouse floor.

Crane's thugs were on him quick, but Batman was ready. A quick whirling kick to the jaw crumpled the first thug. Ducking down, the second thug's wild swinging right hand missed, and Batman was quick to rise with a vicious right forearm that sent him flying.

The remaining two thugs unleashed a volley of bullets that missed Batman, who was now soaring through the air in their direction. The action was so fast and furious that Batman failed to notice Pennyworth's voice in his ear.

"You're not alone. Multiple cars pulling up to the back of the warehouse."

Batman jerked the gun out of the third thug's hand and used it as a club, knocking the side of his head and following it up with a stiff chop to the back of the neck, dropping him to the floor, out cold. The fourth thug moved in, but Batman was ready, delivering a side kick to the wrist, sending the gun flying. But before he could deliver the coup de grace, the thug was lifted off of his feet by the impact of a high-powered weapon.

Swinging around, Batman saw Killer Croc, carrying an absurd M134 mini-gun over his shoulder and a group of 10 henchmen moving his direction. On the other side, Crane had taken Stephanie and held her against him as a human shield.

"It's been fun," Crane said nervously. "But it's time to go."

With that, he tossed a smoke grenade towards Batman, and shoved Stephanie towards the middle of the room. As the smoke began to fill the area, Crane disappeared behind it.

Batman punched a button on his wrist, and got to work. Croc opened fire with the mini-gun, raining a hail of bullets across the warehouse. Batman ducked and dashed towards Stephanie, tackling her and rolling across the ground out of the line of fire.

Croc and his henchmen were closing in quickly, so Batman whipped out his grappling hook and fired it through the broken skylight. He felt it catch on the roof and the cable go taut. He wrapped his arms around Stephanie, who was screaming and squirming.

"Hold on," he said, snapping a lever on the grappling hook and they shot up in the air, bullets flying around them. Landing with a thud on the roof, they found the Bat waiting for them. A sharp slice with his wrists, and the ropes that bound her hands together were freed.

"Let's go," he said, carrying her – still hysterical - to the craft as Croc and his men began firing up through the ceiling. Dashing across the roof, they dived into the open hatch and Batman quickly fired up the engine and the craft lifted up.

As they rose above the warehouse, Batman could see the oncoming lights of the numerous Gotham City Police vehicles moving towards the scene. But as he started to accelerate away, Stephanie continued to scream.

"Where are you taking me?" Stephanie yelled as she reached across and grabbed at the yoke, jerking the Bat hard to the right, then down towards the street below and back up straight in the air. Then, she started to hit at Batman, clawing at his face and pulling at his arms. Batman struggled mightily to keep the craft under control, weaving between buildings as the Bat moved towards downtown.

Batman worked hard to free a small syringe from the left side of his utility belt, and finally managed to land it safely in Stephanie's back. Her body slumped and fell on the yoke, sending the Bat into a spin. With a mighty heave, Batman slipped her body back in the passenger seat, and jerked up hard on the yoke, saving the craft. Finally exhaling, he began to pilot the craft back towards Wayne Manor.


End file.
